The Flute Player
by Paths Crossing
Summary: What happens when a very snooty flute player comes to a town where he is highly disliked, and worse, one being visited by a Ranger who just so happens to dislike flutes?


A/N: Well, it's here at last

_A/N: Well, it's here at last. (Can it really qualify as 'at last?) My first Ranger's Apprentice fanfic._

_Disclaimer: If I owned Ranger's Apprentice, I wouldn't be writing this, so as you must have guessed by now, I do not own Ranger's Apprentice, or any characters and places affiliated with aforementioned series. I own only Marcus the flute player, Nest, David, the innkeeper, and the random village people._

**The Flute Player**

Laughing children darted to and fro across the street, playing their silly little games and generally getting underfoot. The flute player, Marcus, looked down in frustration as one small girl tripped over his upside-down hat, spilling out his profit for what has to be the fifth time that day. He scowled at the girl, and she, seeing his angry look, darted off to rejoin her friends. Holding his flute beneath his arm, he bent, righted the hat, and replaced the coins inside, meticulously counting each one to reassure himself that the little nuisance hadn't stolen anything.

Marcus was not a well-liked or popular man, he was aware of that. He did not care, though, for he considered musicians such as himself to be of a higher breed than the everyday village folk. What few friends he had were all of a like mind, all two of them. In their minds, the only thing the were good for was making a profit for themselves.

As he stood once again and began to play, this time a low, keening song with not much of a melody. He didn't know why others seemed not to like it, for it was his personal favorite. He played it everywhere he went. _'Common folk,'_ Marcus thought to himself. _'Just don't know good music when they hear it.'_

Thoroughly absorbed in his playing as he was, Marcus was not aware of the grey-and-green cloaked figure watching him from beside the tall tree near the edge of the road, nor the fact that the other villagers did not seem to anxious to go near him.

The ranger Gilan had disliked all flutes since his journey through the plains those few years ago with Halt and Will. He disliked this man even more, with his haughty demeanor, and the way he seemed to look down his nose at everyone else. He especially disliked the song he was playing, it sounded far too much like the Stone Flutes. And already a plan was forming in his mind of how he could put a stop to this man's all-to-annoying playing.

--

The day was drawing to a close, and Marcus finally began to pack up his flute, putting his considerable profit into a bag (for though he was disliked, he was a good flute player and the people appreciated that.) What Marcus did not notice, however was the small group of village children lurking behind a few stacks of baskets, foremost of which the brown-haired girl who had knocked his hat over last.

There was smiling and suppressed giggling from the children behind the stacks. None of them liked Marcus, and they knew he didn't like them, so when the cloaked man had approached them, offering them an opportunity to play a prank on him, (Gilan had switched his customary grey-and-green cloak for a normal brown cloak, so he would more easily go unnoticed.) they had readily excepted.

"What's taking him so _long_?"

"Ah, you know him, always counts the days worth of money."

A snicker sounded from behind "Yeah, I bet he keeps a chart and figures out which villages make the best profit. The greedy man."

Nest, the brown-haired girl turned and shushed her companions, fearing Marcus might hear. She and a boy named David were the ringleaders of the group, and the ones who had caused Marcus the most trouble. Now, as Marcus moved out of sight, the children scattered from the basket stacks, running along behind the buildings to the inn in which Marcus was staying. Familiar with his routine, they knew they had approximately one hour while Marcus ate his fill in the tavern. David, being the tallest, reached up to push open the window, and they happily discovered it was unlocked.. The others shoved a small wooden crate beneath, tossed in the bags containing their supplies, and scrambled in, hurriedly beginning their work.

Marcus sat in the tavern, finishing up the last of his roast quail. He would only dine on the best of foods, and it was this in that had been his choice. He was aware of the innkeeper watching him sullenly from where he was cleaning off a plate, and laughed silently to himself. He knew what the man was thinking, and it went something along the lines of 'why did this man have to choose _my_ inn?' or 'I wish that man would leave, he's bad for my business.' And he was, because people didn't like to come where he was.

He left his money on the table, not even caring if some thief stole it, what the innkeeper got wasn't his concern. He walked heavily down the hall, causing the floorboards to let out low, long groans. Full stomach making him sleepy, he looked forward t retiring to the comfort of his bed.

He paused outside the door; sure he heard something on the other side. Then he shrugged, and pushed open the door. After all, what would anyone want with his room? He was slightly surprised to see the window open.

"Did I do that?" he wondered aloud. Moving towards the window to shut it, he slipped on a slick patch of the floor. He could've sworn he heard a giggle as he righted himself, shutting the window as he did so.

Rubbing his bruised backside, he kicked off his shoes, not even bothering to replace his normal clothes with his night clothes.

Well that certainly was strange. Had something moved beneath his covers? He leapt off the bed, pulled down the sheet, and screamed a high-pitched scream, for beneath his covers, at least four snakes (he had no idea that they were the harmless garden variety) six toads, and fourteen worms. He then turned and screamed again when he saw seven spiders climbing the wall. He fled his room, and was completely shocked when a fist swung out of the darkness, splitting his lower lip. He felt the blood trickle down his chin, touching it with his hand and flinching when it stung. He heard laughter as the attacker ran off.

The next morning, Marcus departed the village as soon as he possibly could, never to come back.

--

Later in the afternoon, Nest, David and their cohorts were helping the innkeeper to clean the unfortunate flute-player's room. It was David who finally broke the silence.

"It's really to bad he didn't trip our last trick."

The innkeeper looked up in surprise. "There was another?"

This time, it was Nest who answered. "Oh, yes," She said, nodding "Of course. The man who's idea this whole thing was suggested it. It was right over…. Oh! He took it!"

"Took what?"

"A map." Said David "We don't know where it leads, but we out it there anyway."

"Oh?"

They all nodded.

--

A few weeks later, Marcus the flute player found himself at the docks. He looked around, disappointed. The map had said that there would be treasure. He looked at again, and turned it over. Then, for the first time, Marcus saw the small note in the corner. It read:

Dear flute player,

Welcome to the docks.

Oh, you did go there didn't you? Oops, this map was supposed to lead to treasure. Oh well.

Marcus groaned, throwing the map away into the sea, where it sunk to join the ship on the seabed, the pirate ship and its cargo of treasure

_A/N: Wow, that's the longest fic I've ever written, and all in one sitting. Some of you will probably recognize that this entire thing sprung from something Gilan said during "The Ruins of Gorlan". I don't remember the exact wording, but it was something like "The next flute player I meet, I'll gladly split his lip."_

_So? What do you think? _


End file.
